Spring is like a reward. For making it through the cold, dark months of winter. First you notice the days getting longer. One day the birds are back, and the wind does not bite as hard. Then little shoots of green are everywhere, and the peepers begin to sing near dusk.
But spring is unpredictable in New England. Lots of precipitation and wild temperature swings so you never quite know if it will be rain, sleet, or snow and the occasional nor'easter bringing far too much. This year the first day of spring was March 19th. The earliest in 120 years. Making for a season of hurry up and wait.
The word "spring" comes from the Old English word "springan", which means to burst forth or leap. This time of year, became known as springing time in the 14th century. Because new life bursts forth from the ground. Before that the period after winter was called lent. Sharing its name with the Christian liturgical season observed between Ash Wednesday and Easter. Coming from the Old English word "lencten", meaning to make longer. In reference to the period of daylight growing longer. Here in the Northern Hemisphere spring begins on the vernal equinox. When day and night are roughly equal. And before that it was called "prime temps" from the Latin phrase "tempus primum" meaning the first time.
As welcome as the arrival of spring is in the city, it is of a far greater importance to the country. There is more to do indoors in a city. My little town sends out a newsletter in the mail every month. In it is a calendar of goings on around town. Though winter months are no less full than any other. It is nothing like the options in even a small city. Going out for walks, working in the yard, and talking to you neighbors again feels good.
One sure sign of spring in New England, to people who live close to the land, is the rising smoke and steam of sugar houses at work. Sap begins to run once you have several above-freezing days and below-freezing nights in a row. When the temperate of the sapwood rises above 32 degrees causing pressure within the wood. Sugarmakers drill and tap the tree trunk to allow the sap to flow into a hanging bucket or collection lines. You might get 8-10 runs over a 4–6-week season, and when the trees begin to bud the sap stops flowing.
One tap will produce about a gallon of sap, 40 gallons of which will produce one gallon of syrup. Traditionally the sap is boiled until is reaches 219 degrees, at which point the water evaporates and the syrup begins to thicken. These days it is filtered using reverse osmosis to remove much of the water and reduce boiling times. There are sugar houses all around where I live, though I have never been to one when they are boiling sap. My maple syrup expertise is all on the consumption side.
It is still too early for planting for the few row crops grown here. Though home and market gardeners have been at it for weeks with starting plants indoors. Spring perennials like asparagus and rhubarb will soon be coming up. As will wild edibles like fiddleheads, with mushrooms soon to follow. Most people do not consider proteins when they think about eating seasonally. But if you fish, hunt, or raise your meat instead of getting it from the grocery store there are seasons to that too.
Ewes bred in October will begin lambing any time now. Pastured or tractored broilers are raised over the summer here. So, the freezer may be running low on chicken. Of course, what New England is known for is the seafood. Bay scallops have gone out of season. But bluefish and squid are coming in, with Atlantic lobster season still a few weeks away. Trout ponds open up the 4th Saturday in April in New Hampshire.
Spring is about more than food though. April and May see public gardens open up, and dozens of flower festivals across the region. While it is not the country Boston Public Garden's greenhouses are already open. Each year since the 1840's they have planted 30,000 tulips which bloom in May. Which is still nothing compared to the Tulip Festival in Pella, Iowa about 45 minutes from where I was born, where they have at least four times that many.
The forest grows fast here, but so do the wildflowers. Any spot that is not mowed down will soon be covered in little splashes of color. My town is host to a 2,700-acre state park, which includes a 16-acre rhododendron grove, that will not bloom until late July. But the wildflowers throughout bloom from early spring until the first frost. The park is crisscrossed with hiking trails up Little Monadnock. Not far off is Mount Monadnock, the most hiked mountain in America, and soon an influx of visitors.
Everything is waking up. But most of all our yearnings. All the winter daydreams, and the carefully made plans too, ready to be put into action. Just one more midweek snowstorm in the forecast. Which will be fine. I did not move to the country to rush. I came to adopt the pace of nature. To live deeply in the moment. And to be at peace with things still undone.
Though not as popular here in New England as it is below the Mason-Dixon line, one who enjoys such things would be remiss not to mention the goggle and strut of turkeys -- and the opening of the season -- as another sign of spring.
The birds are singing, spotted a redhead woodpecker yesterday. Greening grass, sprouting leaves, Coyote pups singing nightly,
Our crops are in and beginning to flourish. Calves dot the fields. We sit in tee’s, finally without hoodies and enjoy. Sweet Home Alabama